


you gotta tip on the tightrope

by Anonymous



Series: tightrope [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Forever Evil (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Canon Temporary Character Death, Catharsis, Gen, Reconciliation, Wordcount: 5.000-15.000, acab dick grayson, kind of but not really a fix-it fic, talking things out, tw: dick grayson's shitty life in nightwing (1996), tw: the general shitshow that is nightwing (2011) 30, tw: trying to deal with tom king's shitty portrayal of bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dick's been avoiding Gotham - avoidingBruce- since he finished his business with Spyral. Jason is the unlucky one who's been volunteered by his siblings to figure out why.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: tightrope [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640965
Comments: 52
Kudos: 725
Collections: Anonymous, everybody loves dick





	you gotta tip on the tightrope

**Author's Note:**

> i'm desperate for dick and jason bonding fics that aren't batcest (gross), but so far this is the only word vomit i've made that's coherent and in-character enough (i hope!!) for me to post. 
> 
> but basically - i hate the whole concept of the spyral mission, and i especially hate how dc made a whole big deal out of dick needing to lie to the fam despite the fact that his death is barely even mentioned outside of the grayson title. it's also wild to me that dick is blamed for...most, if not _all_ of the decision to do it, given that nightwing #30 reads to me as bruce not respecting his son's clear boundaries and using violence to coerce him into going on the mission. like...he beats the shit out of dick and blames him for dying, why the hell are people so eager to pin all the blame on dick?? 
> 
> anyway. forever evil and grayson both do dick so dirty (fuck you, tom king). i'm not here for it. so here is dick and jason talking things out: the fic.
> 
> (title from "tightrope" by my fave janelle monae; see end notes for trigger warnings)

_"After this, Bruce, after asking this, between us - it can't be the same again."_

_"I know. I'm hurting you. My family. I'm making that sacrifice. Because **I** don't give up. I don't give in. But what about you? Are you **them?** Or are you **me?** After the Crime Syndicate captured you, tortured you, **killed** you - tell me, Dick, my boy, after all of this - will you **give up?** Will you give **in?** "_

_"I'm **not** your boy."_

_-Nightwing (2011) #30_

* * *

Jason heaves a sigh as he parks his motorcycle in front of Dick’s New York apartment.

It’s still not too late for him to turn around and go back to Gotham, even if his older brother is technically expecting him to arrive for dinner any minute now. A year ago, Jason wouldn’t have much minded making the drive into the city for the rare opportunity to hang out with Dick, just the two of them - Dick Grayson’s time is a hot commodity, and he doesn’t clear his packed schedule to spend time with just anyone. The fact that he's willing to give Jason the time of day after everything that went down when he first returned to Gotham, or when he pretended to be Nightwing while enacting Red Hood’s brand of justice, is frankly a miracle, but...

A year ago, Jason would have given almost _anything_ for just five minutes with Dick, because a year ago Jason had thought his brother was dead. Now, he knows better. As Tim had so aptly put it, Dick hadn’t died...he’d just lied. Even now, months later, the betrayal still stings and puts a strain on their relationship. Dick is the last person in their fucked up little family he would have expected to pull a stunt like that, but everyone knows the saying about assuming things. 

Still, despite his lingering resentment over Dick’s deceit, Jason’s here today because there’s clearly something _up_ with the first Robin and the family is getting sick of waiting for him to sort it out himself. Aside from the first few weeks he spent in the penthouse after he returned stateside upon tearing Spyral apart, Dick has barely stepped foot in Gotham in the past couple of months. 

That alone wouldn’t be such a cause for concern if Dick wasn’t also apparently avoiding Bruce at all costs - he’d delivered his Spyral mission report, but hasn’t spoken to their father since. The most he budges on the silent treatment is passing the occasional message to Bruce through his siblings or Clark when they come to visit him, which usually boils down to “you know what you did.” 

Jason and Tim are still smarting from the fake death thing, and thus haven’t been too bothered by Dick not being a constant, overbearing presence in their lives. Duke barely knows Dick, and is mostly bemused that someone who is allegedly so beloved by the hero community is being so distant with his family. A few texts in the siblings' group chat hardly a stellar older brother make. 

However, it’s a little harder for Damian to just make a trip out to NYC whenever he wants, and as such the youngest of their brood has grown increasingly irritable without regular doses of Dick’s presence to placate him. Cass is...well, to be honest, Jason has no fucking clue about his alleged sister. He says “alleged” because they’ve never met, neither before Barry Allen fucked up their timeline nor after Wally West reappeared to fix it - apparently, she strongly disapproves of his crime fighting methods, and uses Babs’ intel to avoid running into him. It stings a bit, yeah, but Jason doesn’t exactly need a Bruce 2.0 to heap even more judgment upon him. 

Still, she and Damian ganged up on Tim and Duke, who in turned ganged up on Jason to demand he go and figure out what Dick’s deal is right now. As the second oldest sibling and the one with the most experience with Dick and Bruce beefing (besides Babs, who has long since vowed not to take time off from Oracle work to insert herself in any of their disagreements), he hadn’t been given much of a choice. 

(And yeah, he has to admit - Dick’s been giving Bruce the silent treatment now almost longer than he had after whatever spat he and Bruce had that had been the catalyst for him becoming Nightwing, so he’s maybe just a _little_ concerned. But only just a little.)

When he glances up, Jason sees Dick’s silhouette in one of his apartment windows. Either he’s being sloppy, or Dick wants Jason to know he sees him. He can guess which one is the correct answer. With another heavy sigh, Jason dismounts his bike and heads up to Dick’s apartment. 

“Jason!” Dick opens the door to greet him with a warm, if somewhat tired smile. It’s not as exuberant of a greeting as he might have given before, with shadows lingering at the edges of his friendly expression, but...well, honestly Jason can’t tell if the Spyral mission changed something in Dick or if his brother is just perceptive enough to know that all is not yet forgiven between them. Still, Dick looks genuinely happy to see him. “It’s good to see you, I’m glad you made it. How was traffic?” 

Jason snorts. As conversation topics go, that’s only one step up from talking about the weather. 

“Same bullshit as usual,” he gripes, because _really_. The drive between New York and Gotham sucks; that’s old news. “You know how it is.”

“Well, come on in,” Dick says, stepping aside to let Jason enter further into the apartment past the entry hallway. “Dinner will be ready soon; I hope you don’t mind Italian?” 

None of them are quite the chef Alfred is, but Dick isn’t half bad, especially when it comes to Italian dishes. His father had been Italian, and though cooking with Giovanni “John” Grayson had been a rare treat for a young Dick, his great-grandmother’s cookbook is a treasured heirloom. Jason remembers secret, stolen afternoons when Dick would sneak into Gotham to spend time with Jason while Bruce was out on business trips. More than one of those visits had been filled with Dick teaching himself and Jason how to make different dishes from scratch with just the cookbook (entirely in faded, handwritten Italian) and fuzzy memories of his father to guide them. Homemade pasta had been a favorite.

It feels weird, now, to think about that time, those secret days of brotherly bonding that none of their family but Alfred know about. 

“Do I ever?” Jason replies. Sure, the noodles don’t always come out picture perfect, and yeah, it’s not the five star dining they get at the Manor, but it’ll take a lot more than their current tension for Jason to turn down a dish his brother made from scratch. Maybe it’s the echoes of the starving street kid in him, maybe it’s the manners Alfred instilled in him - who knows? 

“Good,” Dick says, brightening a little. “I’m just finishing the sauce now. Make yourself comfortable.” 

Jason has only actually been in this apartment once right after Dick moved in before he was really unpacked, so he takes the chance to have a bit of a self-guided tour. It’s nice enough - a little old, but clearly well-maintained, and surprisingly clean and organized. A bit on the small side, but Dick’s places usually are, and this _is_ New York City. 

However, even though Dick’s lived here for several months, it still isn’t all that personalized. There’s an old photo of Ace, a framed (and signed) poster for Roy’s band, some pretty landscape photography that might be Donna’s, and a small guest room that seems like it’s mostly used by Lian Harper, but if there’s any more personal decorations or photos then they must be in the room Dick uses as his bedroom/study. Jason assumes that’s the case, but still finds that the space feels vaguely...lonely and impersonal, like an apartment just for show rather than living in. It doesn’t really match his memories of the warm and cozy apartment Dick had lived in back before he died. None of Dick’s apartments he’s seen since he came back to life have either, and he tries not to think too hard about it. Dick probably just spends most of his time at the Tower or at the other Titans' places.

Dinner is a quieter affair than he’s used to. Jason’s smart enough to know that Dick isn’t always carefree and in a happy mood 100% of the time like he seems to want their family to think he is, but he’s still less chatty than normal. They stick to safe topics, like sports and TV and movies and Lian's school play, with only brief anecdotes about missions and patrols.

It’s not until after dinner, when Jason’s drying and putting away the dishes as Dick washes them, that Dick finally brings up the elephant in the room.

“So, it’s not that I’m not grateful for your company, because I am,” Dick says, not looking up from where he scrubs at a pot, “Don't get me wrong! I never see you enough, especially outside of masks, but...you haven’t exactly been eager to be around me, lately. Why the sudden call asking to hang out? Is everything okay with you? Is something going on back in Gotham that I should be aware of?” 

“Why are you assuming something’s wrong? Can’t I just want to come over?” Jason asks back.

Dick huffs. “No one ever _just_ wants to hang out with me,” he says, rolling his eyes. His smile when he looks over at Jason seems plastered on. “Everybody always wants something. C’mon, just spit it out.” Is that a hint of bitterness Jason detects? _Yeesh_. He's right, but Jason's not about to admit that, especially not after just having it pointed out to him.

Jason takes a moment to consider his answer, knowing he has to take a more careful approach if he wants to avoid Dick clamming up on him and insisting everything's _fine_. 

“The kids want to know what’s up with you,” he settles on eventually. “Why you’re avoiding Gotham more than usual and if it has anything to do with why you won’t talk to Bruce. They don’t like you not being a constant mother hen, and I was the unfortunate soul who got volun _told_ to come check on you because apparently I have the most experience with you being like this.”

“I am _not_ a mother hen; and for the record, Cass is only a few months younger than you, she’s not one of the kids,” Dick says with an eye roll, neatly sidestepping the real question. “Besides, like you said, this is nothing new. The only difference is that this time I’m sticking my ground, and if Bruce wants me back then it's _his_ turn to do the heavy lifting.” 

Jason snorts. “Good luck with that. Bruce will make the first move when hell freezes over,” he says. "But seriously - what are you and him even fighting about? Is it the amnesia thing?”

Jason’s more than willing to admit the amnesia thing had sucked. It hurt to see how happy Bruce was when he didn’t remember any of them (didn’t remember _him_ , because Jason is a dark spot in the life of everyone he meets) _,_ but even he knows Bruce hadn’t _chosen_ to forget in the first place.

He’d just...put off remembering. It isn't much better, but even as much as it still seriously pisses Jason off, he finds he can’t blame the man. He wouldn’t exactly be eager to subject himself to remembering his own hellish life (and death, and life again) if he had the choice. Still, it hadn’t been good for the children he’d left behind.

Dick makes a noncommittal noise. “That’s...part of it,” he admits, “but only part. It’s a lot bigger than that.” Jason glares at him when he doesn’t continue.

“You know as well as I do that Timothy ‘Professional Snoop’ Drake will not be satisfied with that scrap of information,” he says. “Seriously, what the fuck is up with you two?” 

Dick’s scrubbing becomes more furious as a deep frown mars his face. 

“It’s related to my mission with Spyral, if you really need to know,” he says in a clipped tone. “But I guess you wouldn’t want to hear that, since you and everyone else have already drawn your own conclusions about the whole affair.” 

Jason scowls. 

“Let me guess - Bruce losing his memory left you hanging in the field with no backup or support.” Dick doesn’t say anything, so he shrugs. “That sucks, it really does. But! If one of you had thought about telling _literally anyone else_ that you weren’t actually dead, then maybe you wouldn’t have been in that position!” 

Dick drops the pot he was working on into the sink with a loud clatter. He grips the edge of the counter tight, his head bowed and tension clear in his shoulders. Jason doesn’t care, though - Dick _deserves_ to have his feelings hurt for the way his faked death hurt their family. Maybe that’s what bothers him the most - for all that Dick preached that he couldn’t be the only one to give a shit about keeping their family from tearing itself apart, he’d still hurt them all like that. He gave Jason a taste of his own medicine when he let everyone think he was dead, and he hates that it's so effective.

“Really, Dick, what the fuck were you thinking?” he continues. “Why the hell would you even agree to go on a mission like that in the first place? There are better ways to deal with your secret identity being revealed on live broadcast than faking your death, lying to your family, and joining a spy organization that was a cover for a Nazi secret order!” Okay, none of them knew about the Nazi thing until it was too late, but still, his point remains. Bruce or Dick should’ve at least told _Alfred._

Dick takes in a deep breath. Something in his jaw jumps. The silence is a little worrying - Dick’s loud anger is scary enough, but he’s _dangerous_ when he goes quiet like this. Finally, he looks up at Jason, his face stony and closed off.

“How honest do you want me to be?” Dick asks.

Taken aback, Jason blinks. Who _asks_ to be lied to?

“The fuck kind of question is that?” 

“ _How honest do you want me to be.”_ Dick's not asking this time, and Jason bristles at the tone and the hard look in his eyes when he finally turns to face him fully. “Do you want a pretty half truth to make yourself feel better, or do you want the ugly honest fucking truth?” he asks, and there’s something _mean_ in his voice now that makes Jason bristle. “I’ve let you all draw your own conclusions about my mission because none of you ever bothered to even _ask me_ about it, but do you _really_ want to know why I did what I did, or do you just want your anger to feel justified?” 

“Don’t patronize me, Dickface,” Jason scowls, “And don’t lie to me. I’m not a kid anymore; I don’t need you to sugarcoat things for me. I never _did_.”

Dick looks at him for a long moment, his gaze evaluating. Silence stretches on as his eyes search Jason’s face for some unknown clue or detail, long enough that Jason starts to wonder if a swift kick in the shin will make him talk again. 

“It’s...not pleasant,” Dick says at length, face still blank. “There’s a lot of shit I keep to myself because it’s upsetting, ugly, and frankly none of your business; do you really want to deal with any of that? Because if I tell you this, you have to promise not to share this with any of the others. It’s private, personal, and I don’t want them to know. Not yet, at least, and not from anybody but me.”

“What, big brother isn’t as perfect as he wants everyone to think he is? Well, color me surprised.” Jason rolls his eyes, but Dick doesn’t budge. “Fine! Cripes, do I need to pinky swear on it?” 

Dick just turns away, going back to washing the pot. For a moment, Jason thinks he’s going to be ignored, then, finally, Dick speaks up. 

“You asked me what I was thinking when I took the mission,” he says. He purses his lips. “I was thinking that Bruce was punishing me. I thought he was sending me away to fix my mistake before I could come home and be part of the family again, since my screw-up put you guys in danger."

Puzzled, Jason's brow wrinkles in confusion. 

“Your screw-up?” he asks. “You thought Spyral was punishment for...what, having your identity exposed?”

“Among other things,” Dick replies, still not looking at him. “It has to do with something that happened a while back...I know neither of us would have remembered it at the time he sent me on that mission, but now that everything’s been fixed and our memories restored, it provides some context for the way Bruce acted...or _re_ acted, I guess I should say.”

“You’re being deliberately vague and it’s starting to piss me off,” Jason says, his temper beginning to rise. “Either give me a straight answer or tell me to fuck off; quit beating around the bush.”

Dick looks up at him again, giving him the same evaluating look as before. After a moment, he returns his focus to the dishes without saying anything, and Jason takes it as a dismissal. 

“ _Fine_ ,” he hisses. He doesn't have the patience for Dick's stupid self-isolating tendencies right now. “Be that way!” He puts away the dish he was drying and turns to leave when suddenly Dick decides to speak up.

“I tried to kill myself a few years ago.”

His voice is low, so quiet Jason's shitty hearing can barely pick it up over the sound of the running water, and when he finally processes what he said he swears ( _hopes_ ) he must’ve misheard. 

“...I’m sorry, _what?_ ” he gapes, jerking back around and nearly dropping the dishrag in his hands in shock. The irritability he’d felt moments before suddenly finds itself wiped away by disbelief, confusion, and a faint thread of horror. His stomach churns with nausea from the mix.

“I tried to kill myself a few years ago,” Dick repeats, louder but just as matter-of-fact as the first time he said it. Jason feels like he’s been knocked sideways into some Twilight Zone nightmare dimension, because those words just aren’t supposed to come out of Dick Grayson’s mouth. Not Nightwing, not Dick, not _his big brother._ And - what does that even have to do with Spyral?

“I think Alfred and Bruce are the only ones who ever really recognized it for what it was,” Dick says, “I mean, _I_ hardly realized what I’d done until after the fact when Bruce chewed me out.” He purses his lips. “It was…I’d had a hard year. Between what happened with the Joker, plus the whole Blockbuster disaster, not to mention Donna being killed right in front of me, and that’s _still_ not even half of it...” he sighs. “When Blüdhaven was nuked, I was at a low enough point where I didn’t care anymore if I lived or died. I ran right into the city to try and save as many people as I could, fully aware that I was exposing myself to lethal levels of radiation that would kill me sooner rather than later."

“Hold on, hold on, _back up_ ,” Jason says, waving his hands. “I mean, I know about Donna, but what’s this about the Joker? And what the hell was the situation with Blockbuster; are you telling me you actually _were_ involved in his death? What are you _talking_ about? And what does _any_ of this have to do with the Spyral mission?” 

“ _You_ wanted to hear this,” Dick says, shooting him a look. “If you wanna know why I’m not speaking to Bruce, that means you have to listen to a little backstory for proper context. It’s related, I promise.” He huffs, looking at Jason inquisitively. “You really don’t know about the Joker or Blockbuster? No one ever aired that particular load of my dirty laundry with you?” 

Jason crosses his arms and frowns. He doesn’t like being reminded that 1) he missed a significant chunk of their family’s history thanks to being dead/catatonic/an assassin in training, and 2) despite efforts at reconciliation with the family, he’s still rarely anyone’s first choice for a confidant. 

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t know,” he snaps, defensive.

“Whoa, claws away,” Dick says, “I’m just surprised no one ever told you about my colossal fuck ups, that’s all.” Somehow, he seems nervous upon hearing that Jason doesn't know about his dirty little secrets - he's gnawing at his lip, an old habit that Bruce still scolds him for. Finally, he asks, “Have you ever gotten so angry at someone you, like, blacked out from rage and didn't realize until after you came out of it and it was too late that you’d done something awful?”

Jason frowns, not liking where this is going. “Uh, _duh_ ,” he says. “Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

"Right, sorry," Dick says awkwardly, clearing his throat as his ears grow red. "Anyway, well, you heard about the Joker's supposed 'last laugh' a few years ago right?" Jason nods, familiar fear and rage washing over him at the memory. "Well, thanks to a broken comm unit and a torn uniform, we thought the Joker had killed Tim and fed his body to Croc. Once we had a location for the Joker, I was the one who got to him first, and…I was already furious about Tim, but then he taunted me about how it felt to kill you, and he wouldn't stop laughing, he just wouldn't _shut up_ , so I just…” Dick takes in a deep breath. “I just lost it. Beat him bloody, and didn’t come back to myself until he was basically dead. He wasn't breathing, and his heart had stopped beating. Even then, Tim had to pull me off his body.” 

Jason feels hot and cold all over at the same time. His face is numb, and there’s a sudden buzzing in his ears beyond his usual tinnitus. He starts to feel a little floaty, and he fights with everything he has to stay present in the moment. He needs to hear this, he can't - he can't just dissociate and lose this time. He needs to hear what Dick's saying and be able to remember it later. He needs this more than he needs _air_.

“But...he’s alive,” Jason thinks he hears himself say. “How is he still alive if you killed him?” The words are hard to get out when he can barely move his jaw from how tightly it’s clenched. 

“It wasn’t too late to _resuscitate_ him,” Dick says, and there’s a world of bitterness and self-loathing wrapped up in that one sentence. “Bruce made Huntress do it.”

Jason can only stare. He's trying to process this, trying to absorb this information, but he feels like a shitty old iPhone with not enough storage space for even a single new photo. He knows, objectively, that Dick loves him like he loves the rest of their fucked up little family even now after all the awful things he's done as Red Hood. It's hard to fight off old insecurities, though, and sometimes it's easier just to believe that Dick and everyone else merely tolerates him at best. But this...Dick wouldn't break one of his most sacred rules for someone he only _tolerates_. It's all he's wanted since his resurrection, but getting it this way feels wrong. It feels like a monkey paw curse.

Yet...Dick actually cared enough about him and grieved him deeply enough to do that. And Bruce...instead of accepting the Joker’s death, instead of letting that monster _die like he deserved to_ , Bruce had him resuscitated. He didn’t even have the gall to do it himself; he had to make _Huntress_ do it...How absolutely fucking _typical_. No wonder this is the first Jason’s hearing of this story.

He wonders how much of Bruce’s decision was based on his “everyone deserves a second chance” belief, or if it had been a matter of not wanting Dick to suffer the guilt of having killed someone. The cynical part of him thinks that it’s neither, that Bruce had freaked out and not wanted to deal with the emotional turmoil of having a son he loved commit what he regarded as the ultimate sin. After all, look at himself - Bruce has proven over and over again that he can’t love a son who’s killed. Resuscitating the Joker was probably his way of having to avoid the dilemma of choosing between his love for Dick and his devotion to his mission. 

“That... _bastard_ ,” he hisses through gritted teeth. Dick is eyeing him somewhat cautiously, obviously aware that what he’s talking about is a risky topic with this particular brother. “If he hadn’t - if I had just…” He struggles to find the words, and throws his hands up in the air as he makes a strangled noise of frustration. “The Joker being dead would’ve saved us all a _helluva_ lot of grief when I first rolled back into town!” 

Maybe it would've been easier to accept his replacement if he knew that _someone_ in the family wouldn't let Robin's death go unavenged.

“You think that hasn’t occurred to me?” Dick asks with a grimace. “B...he said I had to face what I'd done, but he never really confronted me about it. He just let me stew in my guilt, convinced I'd just started the slide down his slippery slope of murder, and that it would only be a matter of time before I killed again. Literally the only time he addressed what I did was right after the Joker was resuscitated; we didn't even discuss it after you came back."

Jason, intimately aware of Bruce’s argument for why he won’t kill, frowns. Thanks to his jumps through the multiverse a few Crises ago, he knows that just about every version of Bruce who kills ends up being miserable and/or evil. The Red Robin costume Tim wore for so long came from a universe where Bruce had, indeed, killed to avenge Jason's murder and then never stopped. 

But Dick, though...Dick has a strength of character that most of them can only ever hope to match. He’s better than Bruce, everyone (including Bruce himself) agrees. Jason just can’t see his brother losing himself and his morals that quickly or that drastically, even now knowing about the incident with the Joker. Bruce and Dick share many similarities, sure, but Dick is just a bit more stable and emotionally healthy than their father. Just a _bit_ , but it's enough to make a difference.

“Anyway, I wasn’t in a great state after that. My head was a mess, and I was struggling to deal with a lot of conflicting emotions. I was glad that I did it, but horrified with myself at the same time; I’d never lost control like that before, and it terrified me. And then a few months later, Blockbuster and Tarantula happened,” Dick continues, sounding grim. “Blockbuster was the big bad in Blüdhaven; he controlled everything. He found out that his mother died of a heart attack while stuck in a traffic jam caused by Nightwing so he paid a journalist to figure out my identity, then systematically tore my life apart as revenge. He set Haly’s on fire, bombed my apartment building and killed every resident in it except Amygdala and me, sniper shot and killed the journalist who gave him my identity _while I was talking to her_ , and had Tarantula, a wannabe vigilante he had in his pocket, break up my relationship with Barbara...all in the span of about a week.” 

Dick is done washing dishes but he's still leaning over the sink, making it hard for Jason to see his face from his current angle. What little he can see looks flat and distant, not screwed up in anger like he would expect. That, and the perfectly level, almost _vacant_ tone Dick is using to describe a hellish sequence of events, unsettles him. 

He’s afraid to speak lest he disturb the mental tightrope Dick seems to be walking. How he would fall, Jason’s unsure, but he’s certain it wouldn’t be pretty.

“I apprehended him, but he threatened to use my identity to kill everyone I cared about, anyone I ever interacted with, even random strangers on the street. Tarantula was…” Dick pauses, searching for a word, before settling on what is clearly a euphemism, “... _infatuated_ with me, and offered to kill him for me. I just...wasn't strong enough," he says, turning to hide his face completely from Jason's vision. "I was too worn out physically, mentally, and emotionally to fight anymore, so I stepped aside, and she blew his brains out. I _let_ her kill him.” He hugs himself, his shoulders tense with nerves. “There’s...more, but that’s all I ever told Bruce. That’s all I’ll ever tell _anyone_ ,” he says with a vicious venom in his voice that Jason doesn’t understand. 

Still, he thinks he’s stepped on enough land mines tonight, and doesn’t pursue it even though he burns to know what’s so awful Dick won’t share with _anyone._ If he was he was too worn out to fight then Jason knows he truly had to have been at the very end of his rope, and nobody ever wants to talk about that. Least of all Dick "I Ignore My Personal Issues Until They Blow Up Right In My Face" Grayson, that's for sure. He lets out a low whistle. 

“Damn,” Jason says, because that’s a lot for even one of them to go through in such a short amount of time, even without accounting for all the details he knows Dick has to be leaving out. Though Blockbuster’s death clearly traumatized Dick, Jason’s glad the sick bastard is off the streets for good and nothing more than worm food now. Shit like this is why he's willing to pull the trigger when no one else in their family will.

“Speaking as an actual killer, though, I don’t really think you were all that responsible for his death,” he continues. Somehow, it seems important that Dick knows this. “That’s on Tarantula; she probably could’ve killed him even without you stepping aside. It seems to me you weren’t exactly in the right state of mind at that point to be deciding what to eat for breakfast, let alone whether the man who was destroying your life deserved to live or die.” 

“I know,” Dick says, sounding choked. “I know that _now_. But back then, it felt like the end of the world.” 

This, _this_ is one of the reasons why Jason hates Bruce’s black and white morality so much. He has all of them so goddamn manipulated to seek his approval above all else so that, even when an _actual_ situation presents itself where any sane person would consider lethal force a justifiable act of self defense, fear of judgment for breaking his one rule seems worse than dying. It’s part of what got Damian killed, after all. 

Something tells him this isn’t the right time to make that argument again, though. Dick... _never_ opens up about this kind of shit, and getting him worked up over an old disagreement will only make him clam up again.

"Twice in one year I was responsible for someone’s death. I felt like a failure, a disgrace to the Nightwing name, and a traitor to Bruce and everything he stood for,” Dick explains, finally turning to let Jason see his face again. “I couldn’t handle it, so when Blüdhaven exploded...well, I felt like that was my fault, too, since Slade only got his Secret Society to target the city to get back at me for lying and turning his daughter on him.

“I’d been on a downward spiral ever since Blockbuster’s death, so saving as many people as I possibly could, regardless of the extremely high probability of my own death, was about the only thing that felt worth it at that point,” Dick admits. “But Clark was there and passed on word of what I was doing, so Bruce found me and got me out of there just as I was losing consciousness. WayneTech came up with some serum to treat the radiation exposure and hopefully prevent any long term health effects from it, and _I_ woke up in the Cave to get an earful from Bruce for my reckless behavior over the previous months.” 

At least...at least Dick almost dying while trying to save people makes sense. When Dick had first said he tried to kill himself, Jason’s mind had immediately leapt to things like sleeping pills and razor blades. That would be out of character for him, but _this_...just makes terrifying sense. He can see why most others wouldn’t recognize the attempt for what it was, though, and feels the futile kind of horror one experiences when they’ve learned something awful much too late to fix or change anything.

As someone who’s been there, someone who still wakes up some mornings wishing he’d never made it out of his grave, Jason knows how awful that mental place is. Despite everything, all their history and fights and resentment, though, he and Dick are still brothers. He doesn't want him to know that kind of pain. 

(Oh god... _Hopefully_ deal with the long term health effects? Jason pushes the thought of Dick wasting away from cancer out of his mind, refusing to dwell on it.) 

“He told me...he said he could probably forgive me for losing sight of the value of Blockbuster’s life,” Dick says. His eyes shut. “But...that I had no right to expect him to forgive me for losing sight of the value of mine. He didn’t - still doesn’t - know the full story and how much more I was dealing with than he was aware of, but...still.” 

“That’s…” Jason can’t figure out what word to use to describe how he feels about that. “I can’t tell if that’s oddly touching, for him at least, or like...outrageously insensitive and offensive.” For Bruce to admit that he might be able to look past Blockbuster’s death is shocking, and the explicit confession that Dick matters enough to him that his death would hurt is certainly a rarity, but...the first thing you say to your son when he wakes up from what definitely counts as a suicide attempt shouldn’t be angry, borderline threatening, and it shouldn’t be something that makes him feel guilty for struggling with his trauma. 

Dick snorts. “Isn’t that how everything with him goes?” 

Jason rolls his eyes, trying not to think of his many less-than-stellar encounters with Bruce since his resurrection.

“Okay,” he says at length, breathing out, “This is all...frankly, very horrifying to hear, so I hate to say this, but I still don’t get what context this is supposed to provide or how this connects to Spyral.” 

Dick, now done with the dishes, leans back against the counter, his gaze distant.

“After you died, Bruce lost it,” he says. “I know you don’t believe us when we say that, but I really thought he was going to get himself killed out on patrol because he just...couldn’t function. He didn’t see the point in trying to stay safe if you weren’t alive for him to come home to. I wasn’t without my own grief, but it felt like mine was only ankles in his ocean.” He breathes out. “I was in a similar place after Blockbuster, but I didn’t _really_ understand how he was feeling until Damian died in part because he tried to protect me,” Dick says. 

The bond between a Batman and his Robin is a special one, unique in how it transcends boundaries of paternal, fraternal, and mentor-mentee relationships. Jason is wise enough to know that Dick and Damian’s Dynamic Duo had been truly distinctive because, among other things, of how equal their Batman and Robin were to each other, especially compared to previous Dynamic Duos. On top of that, it’s clear to anyone with functioning senses that Damian is the main reason Dick survived being Batman emotionally. Losing him had nearly shattered Dick, and the rest of the family had been too busy dealing with their own grief to really help him in any meaningful way.

“Between that, and finding everything out with the Court of Owls, and the Joker stuff…” Dick sighs. “I wasn’t exactly in the best place to fight back when the Crime Syndicate showed up and Superwoman got me with her Lasso of Submission. They beat and tortured me, exposed my identity to the world, and then…” Dick closes his eyes. “Grid put me in a room in the Watchtower the League designed to hold Doomsday, and restrained me by sticking me inside a bomb he called the Murder Machine.”

Jason can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the dramatic name. 

“I know, I know,” Dick says. “But I was supposed to be a trap for anyone who came along to try and take down the Syndicate. Bruce, Selina, Luthor, and Bizarro found me. I told them to run, but Bruce wouldn’t leave me, and then the door shut and locked us all inside. It started a countdown on the Machine that was tied to my heart. Bruce tried to get me out of it, but nothing worked. Either someone had to kill me before the timer went off, or it hit zero and the bomb I was strapped into would kill me and everyone else in the room.” 

“Wait a second,” Jason interrupts. “How the fuck did you get out alive, then?” 

Dick gives him a sardonic grin. He doesn’t like the sight of it.

“I didn’t,” Dick says. “Luthor decided to take the situation into his own hands. He had Bizarro deal with Bruce and Selina while he smothered me. Once my heart stopped beating, the countdown stopped, too. For a few minutes, I was clinically dead." He says it with terrible nonchalance, shrugging like he's talking about a game his team lost instead of his _life_. Jason’s ears are ringing again. “B apparently lost it. Luthor gave me a shot of adrenaline to restart my heart and get me breathing again once I’d been unhooked from the deactivated bomb, but Selina told me she thinks he would’ve let me stay dead if Bruce hadn’t freaked out and tried to strangle him.” 

“... _Smothered?_ ” Jason echoes faintly, horrified. Objectively speaking, it’s not the _worst_ way to go, but any death that’s not immediate fucking _sucks_. 

“He lied, and told Bruce he’d given me a cardioplegia pill to stop my heart.” Dick shrugs. “There definitely wasn’t any pill, though, just his hand over my face keeping me from breathing. A pill probably would’ve been a lot nicer, but it wouldn't have stopped my heart in time without causing serious damage.” 

Jason feels sick considering it - Lex Luthor _murdered_ his brother just to save his own hide. The fact that technically Dick was only dead for a few minutes doesn’t mean much to him, not when he knows that the most significant trauma is in dying and waking up, not in how long you spent dead.

“So you...you _actually_ died,” he says, feeling numb. 

“Not like you and Damian did, but yeah,” Dick, ever one to minimize his own trauma, replies. “I really scared Bruce, though. I mean, I died right in front of him, and nothing he did worked to save me. I think what really got to him, though, is…” Dick bows his head, trailing off. He curls in on himself a little, seeming ashamed of what he says next. “I didn’t fight Luthor when he was killing me. I mean, my whole body was restrained, the only thing I could move was my head, but I didn’t try to bite him or even just _shake my head_. Nothing. I think I convulsed a bit at the end, but that was more instinctual than intentional. 

“I didn’t _want_ to die,” Dick continues, “but I didn’t want to be even indirectly responsible for my dad’s death, either. I just focused on how I might finally get to see Damian and my parents again, and accepted it.” 

Dick Grayson, for all his flaws, is a man who never _ever_ goes down without a fight. He’s always been larger than life, unbeatable and unreachable in Jason’s eyes, the golden standard by which everyone else is measured and by which everyone else falls short. What he’s describing is so antithetical to everything Jason knows about Dick, it should be completely unbelievable, yet, somehow it’s not much of a struggle picturing his worn out and grieving older brother at the end of his rope, unable to summon the strength to fight anymore if fighting would mean the death of his father. 

Loyal ‘til the end, of course Dick would sacrifice himself to save Bruce. Of course Lex Luthor, human scum, wouldn’t mind putting the beloved hero (and known friend of Superman) Nightwing out of his misery if it greased the wheels of one of his many plots. 

It’s a distressing image, and he finds all he can do in response is wordlessly pull his brother into a tight hug, the kind he knows Dick would offer if their positions were swapped. Dick tenses up at first, startled by the sudden affection, but melts into it soon enough, and it’s - it’s different than their usual hugs. Even though Dick is short, he usually somehow manages to hug in a way that never leaves any doubt as to who the older sibling is. Now, though, he’s leaning into Jason for comfort like he never does, and, stripped of his many layers of bravado and poise, Dick feels terrifyingly vulnerable in his arms. He's not that unattainable ideal, now; he's just human. He's just his brother.

There aren’t any words, but there aren’t any tears, either - just two brothers desperately trying to convey their apologies to each other through their embrace. 

He still doesn't like it, but Jason thinks he can kind of understand Spyral, now - with his life in tatters, persisting grief over Damian, and the fresh trauma of being tortured then murdered, _of course_ Dick had been down for something akin to a fresh start. He’s always been a little flighty, a little too eager to move on to the next thing, like he can outrun his trauma if he moves quickly enough. Plus, Jason doesn't exactly have room to talk concerning poor post-death decisions.

What he doesn’t get, though, is why the _family_ needed to think that Dick was dead. The world, sure, but hadn’t their family suffered enough already? After Damian, shouldn’t that have been too much? 

He tells Dick as much. 

“When everything was over, Bruce kept me unconscious for about a week so my body could recover and he could...put his plans in motion,” Dick replies, face still buried in Jason’s shoulder. “He told everyone I was dead and had the funeral before he woke me up. He never asked me if I was okay with it all before he went through with any of it.” His voice is bitter, and Jason feels his fingers digging into his back. 

Remembering Dick’s funeral now, after Wally has fixed their timeline and restored the memories and loved ones Barry’s mistake had stolen, is weird and almost headache-inducing. Dick is one of the most beloved members of the hero community, yet he’d died in that fucked up timeline when almost no one gave a shit about each other. Only a handful of heroes had shown up, and even then Jason had felt there was something deeply _wrong_ about that. It felt like Dick had taken some of the light out of the world with him when he died, but hardly anybody had cared. Pretty little mourners at a pretty little funeral, their grief had felt like a show. 

Looking at the unnatural stillness of Dick's body, Mary Elizabeth Frye's famous poem had come to mind - _Do not stand at my grave and weep / I am not there; I do not sleep. / I am a thousand winds that blow..._

The corpse wasn't Dick, Jason had been sure of that; it was just the shell he'd left behind for them to weep over. Realizing now that the "body" was actually an expertly-crafted fake while the real Dick slumbered away in some drug-induced coma, blissfully unaware of how Bruce’s machinations were about to screw with his life, makes Jason want to throttle Bruce for toying with their emotions _yet again_.

(He can't believe the audacity of that man to look them in the eye when they'd lined up to volunteer to go to Apokolips and tell them that no matter what, he was going to be honest with them from then on out, fully aware that he was going to continue lying about Dick being dead. In retrospect, Bruce didn't get enough shit for that stunt.)

Bruce hadn’t even told any of them that Dick had died. That responsibility had fallen to Alfred, as if the old man didn’t already have enough on his plate. Still, he hadn’t exactly given Alfred many details to share with them, either - just that Dick had sacrificed himself to help take down the Syndicate. Jason should’ve realized something was up with that, looking down at the unnaturally still Dick lying in the casket. He’d figured the lack of blemishes had just been an artful application of makeup, and the wound(s) that had killed his brother was hidden somewhere underneath the fresh Nightwing suit they’d buried him in. 

(There had been more proof when Bruce was shot back in time that he was actually dead than details they’d been given about Dick’s death. Why didn’t Tim pursue the possibility of Dick being alive the way he did with Bruce? Were they really not close enough in that timeline for any of them to care?)

“He didn’t give me much of a choice when I woke up, either,” Dick continues, pushing back from their hug until they’re standing apart again, although he doesn’t look eager to part. “He... _evaluated_ me to make sure I was in working order and relatively stable, then told me I was the only one he could trust to infiltrate Spyral. Everyone else would give in, reveal all our secrets, he claimed.” He looks away. “He knew it would hurt the family. He didn’t care. He thought keeping our secrets would keep us safe, and that made it worth it.”

“Ignoring that stunning vote of confidence he has in the rest of us, how did he convince you, then? Usually you’re the first person to tell him to fuck off when he’s being unreasonable,” Jason asks, having flashbacks to being thirteen and watching Bruce and Dick practically tear each other’s throats out over something as petty as a haircut. 

“I _begged_ , Jay,” Dick says, but he sounds more sad and resigned than pleading. “Damn near got down on my knees, but nothing I said or did could change his mind. It was like trying to reason with a brick wall. He wasn't even listening to me - every time I said I couldn't do it, that I refused, he just talked right over me like he was a prerecorded message. He couldn't give me any good reason why we had to lie to you guys too, and despite my protests, a few hours later, I was whisked off on a one-way flight with a ticket he’d bought the week before.” He sighs.

“It wasn’t so much that _he_ convinced _me_ as it was that _I_ couldn’t convince _him,_ " Dick continues. "I remember telling him things could never be the same between us anymore if he forced me to do it, that I couldn't consider myself his son anymore, but it didn't matter to him, and that scared me. I felt like I'd just been fired from being Robin all over again; I was furious with him, but at the same time desperate for him to want me again. You know how it is." He chuckles darkly and hides his face in his hands.

"Yeah," Jason says, voice quiet. "I know how that is."

"I put the family in danger by having my identity revealed," Dick says. "It was my responsibility to fix that, and Bruce gave me a way to do it. He just...made it feel like an ultimatum, like I didn't care about you guys and wouldn't be welcome around if I didn't do it his way. I didn't want to lie to you guys, but even with how angry I was at Bruce, I still wanted his approval I just...didn’t have it in me then to fight back enough to get him to agree to more reasonable terms. I kind of get the feeling he knew that I wasn't in the right state of mind to agree to a mission like that, but pushed me to anyway.”

Something connects in Jason’s brain, and suddenly he recalls a whispered conversation he and Tim had during a brief rendezvous on patrol one night in the days after Dick’s funeral. 

_“He destroyed the Cave_ , _”_ Tim had told him. _“Wrecked two Batmobiles, your memorial case, a bunch of the lab equipment, and really beat himself up in the process...It’s a mess down there right now.”_

At the time, the destruction had made sense. A product of grief and self-blame for not being in time to save a third son from a violent end - understandable, if perhaps a bit histrionic (but then again, when _wasn’t_ Bruce a dramatic bastard?). If Dick hadn’t actually been dead, though, then why would so much of the Cave have been wrecked? 

Bruce is dramatic, yes; richer than sin, absolutely. Still, he’s hardly one to needlessly damage things as expensive to replace as Batmobiles and lab equipment. Jason’s memorial case, too, despite his resurrection and murderous tendencies, is practically sacrosanct (sometimes, Jason thinks the case matters to Bruce more than _he_ does). 

Now, he wonders - how _did_ Bruce “evaluate” Dick? How _did_ the conversation about Spyral go? Did it...get violent? He pictures Dick down on his knees, begging Bruce not to make him do the mission, pleading not to have to lie to his siblings, and getting bodily thrown into a Batmobile for his efforts. The possibility makes his gut sour. 

Still, it’s just a hunch. For all that he’s clearly holding back details of their conversation, Dick certainly isn’t letting on if it was anything but verbal, and Jason’s not stupid enough to ask him straight up. He understands his brother well enough to know that he’ll shut down and change the topic if asked something like that directly. If Jason wants to talk about that with him, he’ll have to find proof something happened first. 

“What a manipulative piece of shit,” Jason growls instead, contemptuous. Bruce is certainly going to get a knuckle sandwich the next time he sees him over the Joker thing _alone_. He’s not sure what the man deserves for everything else, yet. "Your place in the family shouldn't be contingent upon a mission, and it's fucked up that he backed you into the corner like that over it. He used how much you care about us as leverage, that's..." He trails off and shakes his head.

Dick looks up again and Jason can see the cold, controlled fury and a hint of resentment burning in his eyes. Unfortunately, Jason is well aware of how difficult Bruce makes it for anyone to disagree with or say no to him. Getting him to accept a refusal is a Herculean task; Jason’s not surprised Dick couldn’t handle it now that he knows the state his brother had been in when Bruce “asked.”

“I probably should've tried harder to leave some kind of message behind for you guys," Dick sighs. "I don't know what I was expecting; like, did I _really_ think I would be able to risk blowing my cover to contact you while I was at Spyral? And then I got there, and the only communication he'd given me was a direct line to _him,_ no one else,” Dick says. “Even when we realized the mission was much more dangerous than he’d initially thought, he _still_ left me alone in enemy territory with no backup, no support, no fucking _extraction plan_ , and left me hanging at the worst possible time when he lost his memory!” 

Suddenly, Jason remembers why they're having this conversation in the first place, and it clicks.

"So when you said you said you thought Spyral was punishment…” 

Because when Dick says it that way, Bruce’s actions read as deliberately cruel instead of a bunch of small mistakes that piled up into one huge, nearly deadly mistake. Jason knows Bruce is capable of that kind of cruelty, he has the scar on his neck to prove it, but it’s nevertheless shocking to consider it being directed at anyone in their fucked up little family besides him. 

“That’s certainly what it felt like,” Dick says with a sad chuckle. “The crisis and your return distracted him the first time I tried to...well. He voiced his opinion, then, but I got off easy, since there were more pressing concerns. But after Luthor and the Syndicate...my identity being exposed put the rest of the family at risk, and to top it off, I had the audacity to try and sacrifice myself to save him and the others. He yelled at me for that, you know." His voice goes deep and mocking: "‘ _I trained you to live, and I watched you die!_ ’”

“He _blamed you?_ ” Jason asks, astounded. There had certainly been some victim blaming for his own death, but even then Bruce had internalized more of it than he'd heaped on Jason, and what little blame he’d given to Jason had disappeared once he got the full story of Sheila’s betrayal. “ _He_ failed to get you out of the bomb, but he blamed _you?_ Not himself, not fucking _Luthor?_ ” 

Dick shrugs, giving him a grim smile. 

"Bruce likes to act like he's the pinnacle of all rational thought and logic, but we all know how that goes out the window when he panics."

Jason huffs. “Tell me about it,” he says, bitter. "That's still not an excuse, though."

“It's not," Dick agrees, sad. "Anyway I - I know that he probably sent me to Spyral because the situation there really _was_ urgent, and he knew I would’ve gone crazy locked up at home pretending to be dead, but the part where he cut me off from everyone I knew and loved except for him and failed to have any kind of backup plan in case something happened to him...given what I now remember about how he reacted to Blüdhaven, I have a hard time seeing _that_ as anything but a punishment. I thought the family could live without me, so as punishment I had to live without the family.”

Jason leans against Dick’s fridge with a loud exhale. “I...fuck, yeah, I can see where you're coming from,” he says.

“I mean, Bruce in that timeline was so...unstable,” Dick says, frowning. “When he was nice, he was _really nice_ \- just look at how he finally bonded with Damian. But when he was mean…” he makes a vague hand gesture. 

“He took me back to Magdala Valley,” Jason says, voice quiet. “He thought it would jog my memory or something, help him get a lead on how to resurrect Damian...all it did was give me a panic attack and earn him a right hook or two.”

He shakes his head and sighs again. 

“Christ, Dick,” Jason says. “He damn near lost his mind when Damian died, doing everything he could to try and bring him back. I don’t know why we never questioned the fact that he wasn’t doing anything about you. We should've known something was off from the start. You’re right; we should’ve talked to you. I can’t believe we all just accepted that you would do a mission like that with no protest. I...I’m sorry.”

Dick shrugs, looking away. “It was a weird time period,” he says. “None of us were our best selves in that timeline Barry made; I know _I_ certainly did things then that I regret. I don’t think any of us were as close to each other then as we wanted to think we were, either.” He looks back at Jason again and there's a ghost of a smile on his face. “You’re listening to me now, though, and that means a lot.”

“We _were_ quite the miserable little bunch,” Jason agrees. Sometimes he thinks he misses Kory and Roy, but he’s not that Jason anymore, and they’re not those versions of themselves anymore, either. 

For some of them, like Damian, the differences between the real timeline and Barry’s Mistake Timeline are negligible; for others, though...privately, Jason wonders how Barry is allowed to walk free after how drastically his actions changed them. He reckons people like Kory and Diana and Roy and Cassandra should get first rights to punch the speedster, though, over him. 

“Look,” Jason says, breaking their brief contemplative silence. “Are you sure you don’t want me to talk about this with Tim? It would really help to clear the air between you two, I think. He deserves to know, and you’re only punishing yourself by continuing to let him be angry at you.” 

It’s not that he _likes_ his replacement now. It’s just that for all its flaws, Barry’s Timeline From Hell somehow gave him an in with the family, and even when Wally fixed everything, they were reluctant to leave him to his own devices again. Sure, that means there’s always some brat vigilante up in his business, but it also means he can count on them having his back when he needs it. Maybe the other timeline made him soft, but it’s a trade he’s willing to make. 

He just wishes it didn’t mean that now he _cares_ about their feelings. 

Dick purses his lips. 

“I don’t know,” he says at length. “I mean, I know I should be more open. I probably should've said something instead of just assuming you'd notice something was off and ask, but there’s so much that I just...don’t tell you guys, because I’m the big brother and I don’t want you to worry. This is one of those things.”

“I think he has a right to know about this, though,” Jason says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dick, you can’t...I mean, I can understand doing that with Damian _maybe,_ but even then...It really won’t be the end of the world for us if you tell us you’re struggling every now and then so we can help out. You don’t even have to spill everything like you just did with me! After everything you do, it’s really only fair that you be able to lean on us, too.” 

Dick huffs. “Tim _freaked_ when I had a panic attack in front of him after Blockbuster. Totally clammed up, changed his mind on wanting my thoughts on something, and practically ran away. I don’t…” He sighs. “Look, I know I complained earlier about you guys only coming to me when you want something, but that doesn’t mean I don’t _like_ helping you guys. You’re my family; I love being there for you, and I’m honored that any of you find my advice valuable. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t have the time or energy for you or your problems, like you can’t come to me without me having a breakdown, you know?” 

“I get that, I really do,” Jason says, frowning, “but newsflash, asshole - like it or not, even as much as we complain about your aggressive big brothering, _we care about you_. I know we rarely act like it, but family is supposed to be a two way street; we should be there for you, too. I'd rather help you through a rough patch than have to sit through your funeral again, okay?” 

“Hm,” Dick intones. It’s a neutral noise, a _Bruce_ noise, which means he's thinking but hasn't come to a decision yet.

“We don’t want you to be Bruce Jr., Dick,” Jason tries. “We deal with enough secret keeping and emotional repression from him. What we want is for you to be our _brother_.” 

The corners of Dick's mouth twitch up in a small smile. 

“You _do_ have a point,” he says. 

“Hey, just ‘cause I’m jacked doesn’t mean I’m not just as smart as the rest of you,” Jason says, flexing. Dick laughs, and his genuine humor gives Jason a bit of a boost. “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t feel like you have to keep it together all the time or the family will fall apart. First, keeping the family together shouldn’t be on you, or at least not you _alone_ , and second…” Jason shrugs. “You’re clueless if you think we don’t notice when you’re going through it. It feels like you don’t trust us when you lie to our faces about being okay.” 

Dick looks stricken. “No, Jay, I don’t mean - “

“I know, I know,” Jason cuts him off. “I’m just telling you how it feels from our end. It’s harder to trust someone who acts like they don’t trust you.” 

“Fuck,” Dick says, leaning heavily against the counter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, that probably has something to do with why my relationship with Tim hasn't been all that great lately,” he says, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. 

Jason can’t comment on that. Tim’s issues with Dick are his own, and just because Jason’s no longer actively trying to murder his younger brother doesn’t mean Tim’s suddenly going to start spilling all kinds of personal stuff to him. 

“Look,” he says instead, “at the very least, I think you should tell Tim that you didn’t technically fake your death. The rest of the stuff...I’d argue that he can take it, but I guess you don’t have to tell him if you really don’t want to.” 

“And the others?” Dick asks. Jason shrugs.

“You know Damian and Cass better than I do,” he says. “As for Duke...well, let’s be honest. You two aren’t super close now, and it’s not like he knew you before, so I don’t think it’ll tear him up that much to get the full story. It also wouldn’t hurt to come by and hang out with him more often, let him get to know the real Dick Grayson in person instead of just through the family group chat.” 

“Oh, ew, I just realized he really only knows Bad Timeline me,” Dick says, making a face. “And that me turned in him and the other Robins to the cops...that certainly explains a lot.” He runs a hand down his face. “I still need to apologize for that. Christ, and here I am getting mad at _Bruce_ for not apologizing. I’m such a hypocrite…”

“Forgive me for not arguing that,” Jason snorts. Duke’s a good kid, he doesn’t deserve to think that Dick doesn’t like him being part of the family. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence, then Jason decides he’s had enough of standing and moves to leave the kitchen and go sit on Dick’s couch. His brother follows. 

“I understand wanting an apology, but are you actually serious about wanting to reconcile with Bruce after all this?” Jason asks. Dick shrugs halfheartedly. 

“He’s my dad,” He says by way of explanation. “After everything that both of us have said and done, he’s still my dad. I don’t know how to stop loving him or wanting him in my life.” Jason hates that he understands what Dick is saying. Hates that he relates.

“I’ll drink to that,” he says, gesturing like he’s making a toast. “This family would be better off if Bruce could just manipulate us all into giving up on him.”

“Maybe if we all ask for him to start going to therapy for our birthday presents, he’ll actually give it a shot,” Dick jokes. Jason snorts. 

“Yeah, right,” he says.

“It’s just…” Dick sighs. “It’s like I said, none of us were really our best selves, then. That version of Bruce...honestly, I’m not sure if he ever even saw me as his son in the first place. I mean, I barely lived with him before I moved on to become Nightwing, and our age difference was so small, and…” he trails off and shakes his head. “I’m getting away from the point. What I’m trying to say is nothing from that timeline made sense - I mean, _Clark and Diana_ were a thing. If Lois doesn’t hold that against either of them now, then I don’t really think I can hold the way Bruce acted then against the current him...as long as he actually acknowledges that what that version of him did was wrong, that it hurt me, and actually _apologizes_.” 

"Yeah, but...maybe you don't think of him as Bruce, but it _looked_ like him and it _sounded_ like him," Jason says. "That can't be easy to get over."

Dick shrugs. "It's no easier or harder than dealing with what comes after mind control," he says. "Look, you know - Brother Blood had me under his control for a _year_. I said awful things to everybody, even Alfred and Donna. They still managed to forgive me and move past it, so it's only fair I extend that chance to others."

The last mission he'd gone on with the Titans, just months before his death, had been taking down Brother Blood when he'd ensnared Dick and Raven and half the world in his thrall - yeah, Jason remembers that. He's still not sure if Bruce ever found out he was with the Titans then and not tucked away at home. It had been nice, though, to be the one saving Dick for once instead of the other way around.

“You know he doesn’t deserve you or half the shit you do for him, right?” Jason asks. “He _especially_ doesn’t deserve the infinite second chances you give him.”

“I’ve been told,” Dick says dryly. “It’s just that it’s not in my nature to give up on people. I can’t write him off yet.”

“Agree to disagree for now, then,” Jason says. Tackling the issue of how Bruce brings out the worst of Dick’s self-destructive habits is a conversation Jason is willing to save for another day, preferably one where he has more immediate backup. He leans over a bit (a lot), letting his head rest on top of Dick’s. His brother lets out a huff of laughter, reaching up to pat his cheek as he rests his head on Jason's shoulder in turn. 

“I really did miss you,” Dick says. “I guess I’m due back in Gotham for a visit pretty soon, yeah?” 

“Only if you’re ready to face Alfred,” Jason replies. He feels Dick cringe. “Also, fair warning - Damian’s more or less taken over the penthouse as his ‘secret base.’ It’s where he goes when he gets mad at Bruce or misses you, but don't tell him I said that.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna get chewed out,” Dick says. He’s right. “Do you think bringing home some pastries and cookies from Veniero’s will help?” 

“Well, it certainly won’t _hurt_ ,” Jason replies. Far be it from him to turn down sweets. 

“Hm,” Dick says. “I have some work to do with the Titans this week, but I’ll try to come by this weekend.” 

“Do you want me to talk to the kids, or do you want to do it yourself?” Jason asks. 

“I’ll do it,” Dick answers after a moment of consideration. “I think they need to hear it from me if they want to know that I...I trust them.” He lapses into silence for a second. “Thank you for coming by to talk,” he says, quieter. “I know I unloaded a lot on you today, but I want you to know you really can always come talk to me about serious stuff, too.” 

Jason nods. “Thanks, old timer,” he says. “You know, I don't think I ever said it, but I _am_ glad you’re still alive,” he says, then flushes when he realizes how corny that sounds. Shit like this is why he’s rarely so candid with his emotions - he needs to act quick if he wants to save face. “Being the oldest _sucked_ ; I don't know how you willingly put up with so much nonsense from us.” 

Dick is quiet for a long moment, then Jason feels Dick take a shuddering breath. It seems Operation: Save Face failed.

“Thank you, little wing,” Dick says, sounding a little choked up. “I...I’m glad I’m here, too.” He sniffles, then, in a clear attempt to move away from such emotional topics, asks, “Hey, you wanna watch something? I’m still working my way through the set of dramas Clark got me from China for my birthday. My Mandarin’s been getting kind of rusty lately.”

“Only if they come with subtitles,” Jason says. He needs to look into getting hearing aids soon, or at least some kind of noise cancelling tech for his helmet to deal with all the gunshots and explosions. 

“Is it okay if they’re not in English? This batch never picked up much popularity in the West, so there aren’t any English subs,” Dick says. 

“Eh, I could use the practice,” Jason says. 

Dick switches the TV on, and ten minutes into the second episode is snoring softly against Jason’s side. Carefully, so as not to wake him up from what is no doubt some much-needed rest, Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket. There’s an unread text from Tim waiting for him. He snaps a quick selfie of him with Dick drooling on his shoulder, and sends it off.

 **_Tim:_ ** _update?_

 **_Jason:_ ** _[img982.png]_

 **_Jason:_ ** _well._

 **_Jason:_ ** _definitely got what i_ _  
_ _came here for_

 **_Jason:_ ** _he’s gonna try to visit_ _  
_ _gotham this weekend_

 **_Jason:_ ** _he said he wants to explain_ _  
_ _things to u guys himself_

 **_Tim:_ ** _what’s your consensus_

 **_Jason:_ ** _frankly?_

 **_Jason:_ ** _we uhhhhh jumped the gun_ _  
_ _blaming him for spyral, etc_

 **_Jason:_ ** _bruce has some explaining_ _  
_ _to do_

 **_Tim:_ ** _noted. i’ll tell the others to be_ _  
_ _expecting him fri/sat i guess then?_

 **_Jason:_ ** _i guess man idk text him not me_

 **_Jason:_ ** _now leave me alone go back to_ _  
_ _watching naruto with duke_

Jason slips his phone back into his pocket, and returns to watching the drama. He finds the scant minutes he missed must have been crucial, because the man and woman on screen who had been viciously bickering before are now looking rather friendly judging by how enthusiastically they’re sucking face.

Soon enough, he finds that he’s dozing off, too. He’ll have an awful crick in his neck when he wakes up, but at the moment he’s too tired and comfortable to bother moving. 

For now, Jason’s content to fall asleep on this stupidly plush couch, his brother’s presence a familiar and comfortable weight at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: no explicit portrayals, but there is discussion of passively suicidal ideation and an attempt of sorts, abuse (physical, and what could be interpreted as emotional or verbal too), and a very brief and very indirect mention of the nightwing 93 finale. just...the disaster that was dick's life in general in the early/mid-2000s. it's all stuff that happened in canon, but isn't always interpreted/framed the way im choosing to in this fic.
> 
> i very much don't want this fic to come off like i condone abuse of any kind, because i really don't. it's just hard to get that across when dick sticks by bruce's side no matter what in canon, so the separate timelines thing was an attempt to reconcile the (somewhat) kinder preboot version of bruce with how blatantly abusive king makes him in reboot/rebirth (bc lol of course he was a writer on nightwing 30 too). ymmv. i want to actually tackle the issue of bruce's questionable treatment of dick in preboot, too, but that will come in the sequel if i ever finish it. i still have more emotional issues to project on dick!
> 
> and now for some really long end notes:  
> -yeah i know canon claims luthor killed dick w a pill but that's bullshit. what pill can magically give you a heart attack in under 5 minutes without causing serious permanent damage?? the drug they're talking about needs to be injected irl, a pill doesn't cut it. shrug.  
> -i don’t know a gd thing that’s happened in rhato and i don’t plan on ever finding out either. i'd rather die than read a single issue of that nonsense (#justiceforkory2k20). the timeline reset i've put in here occurs shortly after the spyral mission ends (but duke is still signal bc [mumble mumble] reasons) so that means that rhato #25 didn't happen.  
> -i swear on my lesbianhood i will NEVER make dick a cop. im big mad @ dixon for sticking his conservative politics in dick’s story where they absolutely don’t belong; acab dick grayson till i die. idk pretend he was an investigative reporter during bludhaven doing an expose on police corruption or something, anything's better than being a pig.  
> -no, dick didn't tell jason he was raped bc 1) as someone who's not a survivor i don't feel comfortable writing abt that and don't really think it's my place to either and 2) i wish this fandom viewed dick being forcibly outed as a survivor as being as serious and at least as awful as an lgbt person being outed without their consent. like...rape affects real people; it doesn't exist to be part of a h/c spectacle.  
> -HoH jason fuck yeah!! hopefully my portrayal was respectful.  
> -veniero's is real and it's yummy. luv them.  
> -fun fact: dick's apartment looks "barely lived in" because he's, in fact, barely living there - he lives with roy most of the time because in this house we stan dickroy :) his apartment is more like his base of operations as nightwing.
> 
> i had this part written before the prequel which is why it was posted so quickly, but im really struggling with the sequel lmao :/ everything comes out disjointed or ooc or like im woobifying dick ugh. there's so many fics woobifying jason and tim tho so i guess it would balance things out haha. hopefully i'll finish it soon. for now im still anonymous, though im feeling a little better w the positive feedback for the prequel!


End file.
